Be Still
by CarlieD
Summary: What if… Tony and Ziva had needed to remain undercover? What if NCIS and FBI could not back them up and they had needed to truly be Jean-Paul and Sophie Ranier?
1. Prologue

_What if… Tony and Ziva had needed to remain undercover? What if NCIS and FBI could not back them up and they had needed to truly _be_ Jean-Paul and Sophie Ranier?_

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the NCIS characters.

* * *

**Prologue**

"So you _won't_ kill us?" Ziva asked slowly, trying to stall on her way out of the hotel room.

"I don't know," the man replied. "I haven't decided yet."

Ziva, with one last frightened glance at Tony, opened the door and walked down the hall.

* * *

She stopped a little ways back from the door. "I…" she said. "I destroyed the disk," she said.

"Did you?" he asked, slamming her against the wall. "Why? Why would you destroy it?"

"Because I knew that we would never be left alone while it was still accessible!" Ziva spat. "I do not want my child to live in constant threat of death!"

The man stared at her a moment. Then he began to laugh, releasing her. "That was smart, Mrs Ranier. Very smart. Maybe I won't kill you after all."

* * *

"Damn it, McGee, where are they?" Gibbs demanded, pacing back and forth in the suite.

"I-I-I-I don't know, boss," McGee replied, propping himself up on his elbows. "Should I go –"

"Well, _no_, McGee, you'll blow their cover," Gibbs said, just as Fornell came out from the washroom.

"Stand down, Gibbs. My agents just spotted them leaving with Siazon. Looks like DiNozzo took a few blows to the face, but otherwise both are unharmed. Do I tell my men to follow them, Gibbs?"

"Follow them, but discreetly," Gibbs ordered. "I don't want Siazon having any reason to harm them."

* * *

"Are you certain you're all right?" Ziva asked worriedly, dabbing gently at Tony's split lip. She was careful not to turn her back on their quasi-captor. "That looks like it hurts…"

"Oh, only a little," Tony said with false bravado, one arm sliding around her waist to hold her steady as she knelt on the seat.

"I find out that you two are lying to me, and it will hurt a lot more, Mr Ranier," the assassin said coolly. "The driver will let you off at the airport. You may catch your flight to Gilead. But I will be watching you. And if I see any hint of a suspicion that you are not being truthful… You will not be living the normal life. You will not be living at all."

Ziva gave him a curt nod, returning her attention to Tony. "Ooh, I think you'll need stitches, my love," she murmured.

"Really?" Tony asked pitifully.

* * *

"What are we doing?" Tony hissed to Ziva as they advanced through the security checkpoint. "We don't know what we're doing!"

"We are playing it by ear," Ziva muttered. "We are going to have to trust that NCIS and the FBI are following us." They paused at the gate to the airplane.

"And if they're not, Ziva?"

Ziva sighed. "Then we remain undercover until they find us again."

"There are more than a few slight problems with that theory," Tony muttered back as they boarded.

"I know, but it is our only option."

* * *

"It's… cute," Tony said thoughtfully as the taxi let them off in front of 198 Hanover Crescent. "In a cliché-American-white-picket-fence way."

Ziva examined the house. "It will do," she announced, her arm looped through Tony's. "Come. Let's see what Jean-Paul and Sophie left us, yes?"

"Excellent, it's furnished," Tony commented as he closed the front door behind them. "This is good…"

"McGee said that the phone and cable were due to be turned on next week," Ziva continued, brushing her fingertips against the railing rods of the front hall. "We will have to go and see if we can arrange to have it connected sooner. We will need copies of the spare key we used to get in…"

"DVD _and_ Blu-Ray… high-def LCD tv… man, that's gotta be a good 50-inch…"

"We will need to figure out what Jean-Paul and Sophie were planning on doing here…"

"Surround sound!…" Tony began to walk towards the hallway, pushing open the first door to find an office already set up with bookshelves, two desks and two computers. "Cool computers…" He closed the door again and went to the next.

"… Tony, are you even listening to me?" Ziva asked as she came up behind him. Then she fell silent as she realized what they were looking at.

The room was cream with minty-green trim and paneling. Toys, a crib and a changing table, a bureau were all set up around the room.

"Damn it," she muttered, pulling a hand through her hair.

"You _had_ to tell them."

"Damn it."


	2. The First Days

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The First Days**

"What are we supposed to do?" Tony asked with a groan as he leaned back against the doorframe. "We're dead…"

"Dead if we do and dead if we don't, Tony," Ziva sighed, leaning back against the other side of the doorframe. "If we don't –"

"Our little friend knows we're lying, kills us."

"If we do –"

"If we ever get out of this, Gibbs and Jenny and probably your father too will kill us."

They stared at each other for a moment. "A little far for a cover story, don't you think?" Tony asked uncertainly.

"It's not this house. We can't just drop it when the mission's over," Ziva murmured.

"But who knows how long this'll be," Tony said. "I mean, how long can it take before we're done?"

"I was undercover fulltime once in Israel for two years," Ziva said.

"We could bluff a miscarriage," Tony suggested.

"Without having gone to a hospital?"

"Damn, I hate it when you're right. So…" he trailed off as Ziva bit her lower lip. "So I guess that means we stop pretending."

"I suppose…" Ziva said doubtfully, and as he closed the short distance between them, leaning in to kiss her forehead, he saw the unfamiliar fear in her eyes. He had no doubts that not only was she breaking about five NCIS rules and a few of Gibbs' rules, she was probably also smashing about a hundred Mossad rules into little pieces. She was risking more than him in this little cover story. "Tony…"

"I won't let you fall, Ziva," he whispered to her, kissing her cheek. "I got your back." Cautiously, he closed his lips over hers, hands cupping her head. "I'll always be around."

"You can't promise that," she whispered in reply, even though her arms were winding around his neck and her lips were parting to let his tongue in.

"Yes, I can," Tony replied as they made their way back towards the master bedroom. "I will go to the ends of the earth for you."

* * *

Afterwards, as they lay sweating and panting between the cool sheets, Tony pushed back a long black curl falling across her face. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, head lolling against his shoulder and fingers curled slightly against his chest.

The way her body remained curved against him, almost possessively, reminded him of a child who was frightened of a departure if they released their hold.

Gently, Tony laid a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Goodnight, Ziva," he whispered.

She murmured a reply, so soft that Tony didn't catch it, and nestled in closer.

* * *

_"What do you mean, you can't put surveillance in?" Gibbs roared at Fornell. "I have two agents undercover with no backup and probably unarmed, Fornell!"_

_"Siazon has men shadowing them like hawks, Gibbs!" Fornell spat back. "I put surveillance in there, and I blow their cover to hell and back!"_

_"Well, we can't just abandon a operation with two agents stuck, can we?" McGee asked._

_"I'll keep trying, Gibbs, but it could take years for us to find a viable position," Fornell said. "It's better for DiNozzo and David if we abandon for right now."_

_"And what happens to Tony and Ziva?" McGee exclaimed. "They just…"_

_"They maintain their cover," Jenny said as she entered MTAC. "They know the drill. This isn't the first operation that Ziva's been abandoned for a length of time on. We know their fake names, we know the address. We'll get them out."_

* * *

"All right," Tony said the next morning, after they had both showered and dressed. "First order of business. Breakfast."

"No," Ziva replied distractedly. "No groceries. First order of business, figure out what in the world we have to do."

"Groceries."

"Phone and cable companies."

"Keysmith." He grinned when she glanced at him suspiciously. "I was listening last night. What else was in that chip Abby found?"

"The deed to a restaurant…" Ziva murmured. "Teklava Bistro. 177 O'Brien Avenue. It must be what Jean-Paul and Sophie were planning as their civilian career."

"Nice," Tony mused. "I could manage a bistro. You don't think the employees have _met_ the Raniers yet, hey?"

"Most likely not," Ziva replied. She looked at him again. "Listen, Tony, about last night… I –"

"Don't apologize," Tony cut in, chancing a light slap to her cheek. "It's not a sign of weakness. C'mon, I've been dying to drive this Mustang since we found it in the garage last night."

* * *

"Hi, can I do something for you today?" the young hostess asked as Tony and Ziva entered.

"Drake Martin," Tony said, holding out his hand. "This is my wife, Christine."

"Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Martin, you're early!" the girl exclaimed. "Come with me, I'll let Mr. Randolph know you're here."

Tony and Ziva exchanged a surprised glance. "That was easy," Tony muttered, as he put a light hand on her back and they followed the girl towards the back rooms. "Well, come on, sweetcheeks."

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Martin, I presume?" the portly man said as he stood up from behind the desk. He was glistening with sweat and his hands were grubby, his clothes rumpled and stained. "Jason Randolph, current owner." He held out a hand.

"Drake," Tony said, biting back a shudder of disgust as he took the hand. The man shook it firmly and turned to Ziva, holding out his hand expectantly.

"Christine," she said, not extending her own. When he looked at her quizzically, she shrugged apologetically.

"She doesn't like touching people," Tony muttered. Randolph pulled a sympathetic face.

"Sorry to hear that, Drake." He grinned and laughed, a grating, horn-like sound. "Must have made for one hell of a honeymoon."

"I'd shut up if I were you, Mr. Randolph," Tony said coolly, sliding an arm protectively around Ziva's waist. "Now, can we get on with the day?"

* * *

Randolph pushed open the door to the kitchens, leaving a greasy smudged handprint. Ziva shuddered and opened the door from a different spot, muttering to Tony, "I do not want to see the state of this kitchen."

"We will overhaul the entire place, sweetheart," Tony muttered back as one employee edged past them. "I will fumigate it if it'll make you feel better." At that promise, the girl sent a brief smile in their direction and stopped.

"Are you the new owners?" she asked softly. "Cassie Quesnel, I'm one of the assistant cooks."

"Drake Martin, this is my wife, Christine," Tony replied, holding out a hand. Cassie took it briefly, shook Ziva's hand and then held the door for them. Randolph seemed to have disappeared, and a few cooks were milling around.

"Tell me you're the new owners," one man said as he approached.

"Drake and Christine Martin," Tony repeated. "You are?"

"One moment." The man turned around and whistled sharply. Immediately, the other people inside gathered. "Great. I was hoping you'd arrive a little early. Damian Windsor, head chef." He shook both Tony and Ziva's hands firmly. "Jason will have disappeared by now. We will tell you _exactly_ what needs to be done here. He wasn't the greatest owner."

"Excellent, I would _love_ to hear your views, Damian," Ziva said.

"It _does_ need to be fumigated," Cassie admitted. "We've got a cooler infested with…"

"Last week was ants. We Raided that," one woman spoke up.

"Two days ago was mice."

"I found a few cockroaches this morning."

"I did _not_ need to hear that," Tony muttered. "And you guys are serving that food?"

"Well, we don't use that cooler now," Damian said defensively. "Haven't used it since we found the first infestation. We use the one cooler, restock as often as we need."

"What else needs to be done?" Ziva asked, her voice taking on a professional tone.

"Um, a couple of the appliances are shorting out, an element on the main stove doesn't work, the plumbing's a little wonky…"

"Dining room could use some paint and some revarnishing…"

"Security system needs to be looked at…"

* * *

"What doesn't need to be done on that place?" Ziva sighed that night as they were sitting on the couch at home. She was flipping through the files lying in a box on the floor, shaking her head.

"Whole place needs an Extreme Makeover," Tony commented distractedly, flipping through the channels on the TV. "God, they had no taste in TV."

"The restaurant will need to be closed for weeks, possibly months," Ziva continued, dumping the papers back in the box unceremoniously. She mumbled something irritably in Hebrew and stretching out on her stomach on the couch, folding her arms across Tony's lap and resting her chin on her arms as she watched the TV.

Without thinking, Tony started combing his fingers through her hair. "So," he said. "How long do you figure we'll be here, Ziva?"

Ziva rolled over, looking up at him. "For a while, I believe, Tony," she said quietly. Tony stopped combing her hair, looking back down at her. "Our little friend had people following us all day. There is no way that NCIS or the FBI could get by them." Sighing, she stretched languorously, her shirt riding up to reveal smooth skin, and closed her eyes. "Keep doing that," she murmured, leaning into his hand as he started combing her hair again. "Mmm…"

"Feel good, Ziva?" he teased gently, his other hand lightly tracing patterns over the bare skin of her stomach. He grinned when she started to curl up and stifle giggles. "Aha! Our little assassin is ticklish…"

"Tony, Tony, stop it!" she gasped, trying to wriggle away as he caught her around the waist and doubled his attack. "Tony! Tony, I will kill you!"

Tony yelped as she suddenly lunged at him, pinning his arms back against the couch as she swung herself upright, straddling his waist and hissing into his ear threateningly, "Do that again and you will lose a _very_ dear appendage." She nibbled lightly at the edge of his earlobe, causing a slight gasp of pain before the groan of longing escaped. She looked at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal, sweetheart," Tony replied with an equally daring look.

* * *

They woke up the next morning tangled into sheets and blankets and each other.

Ziva folded her arms across his chest, resting her chin on top as she quietly observed his face. A slight crooked smile crossed her own, and she blew softly into his ear, making him jump awake. "_Boker tov_, my love," she teased lightly.

Tony yawned enormously. "Can we sleep in today?" he asked sleepily, face turning away from hers. "Nowhere to go…"

"We could," she breathed into his ear. With that, she curled up against his side and fell asleep again, Tony's head resting on hers.


	3. TwentyOne Months

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the NCIS characters or storylines.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Twenty-One Months**

_"What do you mean, you still can't find a viable position?" Gibbs asked angrily. "It's been half a year, Tobias! I need my agents back!"_

_"Mossad wants to know why they can't get a hold of their officer," Jenny said quietly as she joined them in the bullpen. "They aren't happy that we sent Ziva undercover and incommunicado. If we don't extract them soon, I'm afraid that Mossad will send an extraction team themselves, and it will be the end of American-Israeli cooperation."_

_"Tell her father that if he attempts to pull her out, he will kill Ziva, Tony and whatever officers he sends to extract her," Gibbs said._

_"Assure Deputy Director David that we are trying as hard and as fast as we can to extract them," Fornell added._

* * *

"Well, I have to say, sweetheart, I didn't think you could hack it as an entrepreneur," Tony said as he and Ziva exited their office at lunch hour. Ziva had this weird habit of being the most visible at the busiest time, which usually ended up with Tony dragging her back off the floor to the office to eat something.

But today she had eaten before her usual rounds, so Tony had reluctantly agreed to accompany her.

Ziva chuckled slightly. "You have never met my father."

"Oh, um, Christine, Drake, there's a man outside who would like to speak to the owners," came the voice of one of the young waiters. "He's really insistent…"

"Tell him we'll be right out, Brian," Tony said. Brian nodded and disappeared into the dining room again.

* * *

"You lied to me," he said quietly as Tony and Ziva joined him at the table in the darkest corner of the room. "Did you think you could get away with a lie like that?"

"So I may have fudged a little bit on the time," Tony replied in an equally quiet voice, gently squeezing Ziva's knee in reassurance and silent admonition underneath the table: 'let me handle this'. "If I had told you the true time, you would have killed her."

"And it bought you six months," their nameless contact said, folding his hands together on the table. "Tell me the real due date now and it'll buy you another six."

Tony and Ziva glanced at each other. Then Ziva said quietly, "June. The end of June."

Their contact started to slide to the end of the bench, saying, "That's three months from now. I'll be back in early July. If you told me the truth, you'll have another three months of normal life. If not…" he shrugged his shoulders. "You know what'll happen."

"It's not normal life when you have your goons following us everywhere, watching our house, tracking our cars," Tony said suddenly.

"An unfortunate necessity of your release," their contact replied. "Be grateful we aren't tapping your phones as well. We'll renegotiate surveillance in July, when you've proven your trustworthiness."

* * *

"Tony, turn off the damn television and listen to me!" Ziva snapped.

"What?" Tony snapped back, sitting up from his position on the couch. "God, you're insufferable!"

"_Me_?!" Ziva exclaimed, sitting up straight from her position at the other end of the couch. "I am not the one who got us into this mess in the first place!"

"Excuse me, who told him Sophie was _pregnant_ in the first place?" Tony exclaimed.

"_You_ did not call it, Tony. _You_ got us into this! _You_ were the one who said to 'stop pretending'!"

And together, they snarled, "It is just as much your fault as mine!" Both Tony and Ziva stopped dead silent after that comment, dropping their heads into their hands.

"God, I sound like my father," Tony muttered.

"I hated my father when he said that," Ziva murmured. "Oh, God, Tony, this is actually happening…" Her voice wavered, dangerously close to tears. "How are we supposed to pull this off?"

"I don't know," Tony admitted quietly, reaching to pull her into his arms. "I honestly don't know, Ziva. But we will. We have to." He curled his fingers around hers.

There was silence for a moment until Ziva let out a slight gasp and pulled his hand down to her stomach, just in time to feel another kick, light as a butterfly.

"And with that settled," Tony said with a smile, kissing her temple, "let's get back to shop talk."

* * *

_"You're running out of time, Tobias…"_

_"Gibbs, we're working on it!"_

_"You've been working on it," Gibbs snarled at his FBI counterpart, "for NINE DAMN MONTHS, FORNELL!"_

_"Their surveillance hasn't let up any, Gibbs! I still can't get a man inside!"_

_"Would the both of you stop it?" Jenny said sternly. "You're not the one who has a _very_ irate deputy director of Mossad screaming at you on teleconference."_

* * *

He came to their house this time, pulling up in a nondescript sedan.

"Let me handle this one, okay?" Tony said quietly, heading for the front door. Ziva nodded, eyes fixed on the tiny little baby girl she held in her arms. "You and Shiloh stay out of it."

The newborn began to squirm and fuss again, arms and legs flailing. Almost immediately, Ziva began to walk her back and forth, crooning a soft, indistinct lullaby. "Yes, yes, that's it, little one," she cooed in Hebrew as Shiloh began to calm. "Mama is here…"

"Ziva," Tony warned softly just before he opened the door. "Right on time," he said coolly to their contact.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" he asked.

"I'd prefer not to have you in my house," Tony replied coldly. "We can negotiate right here."

"I want to see the baby."

Ziva appeared beside Tony, cradling Shiloh protectively against her body. "There. You have seen her. Now remove your guards."

"No," he said with certainty. "You haven't earned that freedom. I will disable the tracking devices on your cars."

"And what if I tell you that I want all the guards gone today?" Tony said threateningly.

"I wouldn't suggest making that demand, Mr. Ranier," their contact replied calmly. He opened the side of his coat to reveal a pistol and silencer. "Infants don't tend to survive very long once their parents are dead."

* * *

"Damn him," Tony muttered as the sedan drove off. "Damn him for holding her over our heads like that. Is she sleeping?" he asked Ziva, who nodded silently. "Here, let me take her," he said, carefully extracting his daughter from her mother's arms. "You go catch up on some sleep."

Ziva nodded again, disappearing back into the master bedroom. Tony settled Shiloh into his arms, rocking her lightly as he said, "You know, Shi, I envy you. Look at you, you got the world at your feet. You got me and Mommy jumping to your every little whim. All you have to do is lie there and look cute and you're the most popular little girl in the world."

He didn't know how long he stayed out there in the living room, walking around the room with the baby sound asleep in his arms. He didn't keep track of the time, that would be too Robert DiNozzo of him.

Drake Martin would stay up all night with his new daughter, drinking in the warmth, the solidity, the little coos and the tiny squirms. Envisioning her at different stages of life: a curly-haired, dark-eyed toddler giggling; a dark-haired child playing; a tall, slender teenage girl.

Anthony DiNozzo would stay up all night with his new daughter, drinking in the warmth, the solidity, the little coos and the tiny squirms. Promising her that Daddy would be different. Daddy would be to her what his parents had never been to him. _Her_ daddy would tuck her into bed at night, read her stories, look at her report cards, cuddle and kiss and play with her.

* * *

Christine Martin would come in to relieve her husband at 5 AM, carefully taking her tiny daughter and settling down into the cushions of the couch to feed her. She would smile at the way Shiloh sucked frantically, as though she were dying of thirst in a desert. When she was through, she would carefully, gently wipe away the last few drops clinging to her lips.

Ziva David would come in to relieve her partner at 5 AM, carefully taking her tiny daughter and settling down into the cushions of the couch to feed her. Her mind would flood with the memories of her mother in Tel Aviv, feeding her new little sister Tali and laughing as Ziva asked why it was that mothers could never look away from their babies. And she would understand her mother's words in that moment, as she gazed into the trusting dark eyes of her baby.

"_Because when we look away, Ziva, they grow."_

* * *

_"I got a man in, Gibbs," Fornell announced without foreplay as he strode into MTAC. "No contact, no visuals yet, we can't risk becoming too obvious, but there's a man in."_

_And so the end began._

* * *

"You sure you want to go back in today?" Tony asked, closing up the diaper bag. "You just got that nasty bug…"

"Mmm, I want to make sure that the restaurant still stands after only you in charge for a week," Ziva replied, though she was holding onto the doorjamb to steady herself. Her face was pale, her hair tumbling rather limply down her back.

"You shouldn't be going in," he repeated, lifting Shiloh into one arm. "I want you to stay at home, sweetheart. Get some rest."

"I am fine, Tony, really," Ziva repeated herself.

"No, you're not," Tony replied. "Go lie down, Ziva. I don't want you going in today."

* * *

"A couple of customers would like to speak to the owner, Drake," came another waiter's voice from the doorway of the office.

Tony looked up from his computer, Shiloh fast asleep on his lap. "Tell them I'll be there in a moment, Josh. Which tables?"

"13 and 29. 13 is your friend," Josh replied.

"All right, thanks, Josh," Tony said. Sighing, he saved his document and then stood up, cradling Shiloh gently in his arms. He crossed over to the playpen set up in a corner of the office, laying his daughter down and pulling a soft blanket over her to continue her nap in peace. "Daddy'll be right back, Shi."

"Thus far, you have done nothing to lose my trust, small though it is, Mr. Ranier," their contact said quietly, unheard over the din of the midday lunch rush. "I will go another six months. What is it you want in return?"

"Take the surveillance away from my house," Tony said.

"No. I will take the surveillance away from here. Another six months of relative freedom, Mr. Ranier." He looked around. "Where is your wife and daughter?"

"My daughter's napping," Tony replied stiffly. "My wife is at home with the flu. Now, if you don't mind, I have more customers to see." He stood and added dryly, "I assume this dinner will be going on the house too?"

Their contact laughed, leaning back in the booth. "You would be right, Mr. Ranier. We will see each other in six months. But before I go, do you mind just showing me the girl? And you won't mind if I make a quick stop by your house?"

Tony tightened his jaw. "Come with me," he said quietly. "I don't want to wake her up."

* * *

"She is quite beautiful," he said, looking down at the tiny girl still sleeping in her playpen. "She looks like her mother, doesn't she?"

"Yeah," Tony replied, subtly placing himself between their assassin contact and his helpless child. "You've seen her. Now go."

"Very well. I'll be back, Mr. Ranier."

* * *

_McGee and Gibbs watched as Tony led Siazon into the back room. None of the workers seemed to be confused or suspicious about the interaction. Minutes later, Siazon re-emerged and left._

_Their waiter came back and in an apologetic tone said, "I'm afraid Mr. Martin won't be able to come out."_

_"Can I ask why?" Gibbs asked, leaning forward on his elbows._

_"Family matter, sir."_

* * *

"So I saw our friend today at the restaurant," Tony commented that night as he stretched out on the couch, Shiloh draped on his chest and Ziva nestled close against his side with her head resting beneath his chin, forehead still damp from fever. Gently, he repositioned Shiloh a little further from Ziva. "Don't breathe on her, sweetheart. You'll get her sick too."

"… And?" Ziva asked drowsily. "Did you sp…"

"Yeah," Tony said. "Surveillance is gone from the restaurant." Shiloh whined a little just then, reaching for his face, and his attention was momentarily diverted to her. "Hey, little girl," he whispered, kissing the tip of her little nose. "Feeling a bit ignored?"

Ziva laughed slightly, stopping to cough violently. "She is perfect, Tony," she managed to rasp between hacking coughs.

"Yep, I'd say we done good, Ziva," Tony agreed, kissing the top of her head. "Come on, let's get the two of you to bed."

* * *

When had it happened, he wondered that night as he watched her sleeping, her head resting on his chest. When had their undercover lies become real? When had the temporary become permanent?

Worriedly, Tony felt her forehead. It was still burning hot. And after almost a full week… "Hey, Ziva," he whispered, shaking her awake. "Wake up, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"…Why?…" Ziva murmured. "No need…"

"You've had this fever for a week, honey, and it's getting stronger again," Tony said, lifting her out of bed and getting her dressed. He frowned as he saw the rash beginning to spread across her torso. "Don't you pull any crazy sick ninja moves on me, girl, because it's not going to work," he continued, pulling her shirt over her head. "Come on," he coaxed, helping her to her feet. "Upsie-daisy. Let's go."

* * *

"Your wife has a touch of scarlet fever," the doctor informed Tony quietly. "I want to keep her here in the hospital overnight."

"Absolutely, doctor," Tony agreed, bouncing Shiloh lightly in his arms as she dozed. "She'll be all right, though?"

"A couple days with some medication, she'll be back to her old self again, Mr. Martin."

Tony laughed wryly. "Not sure I want that, doc. I kind of like her when she's not a little spit-fire." With one last laugh, the doctor left the room, leaving Tony to sit down in the chair next to Ziva's bed.

* * *

_"Your owner still unavailable?" Gibbs asked sceptically a week later._

_"Family emergency, sir, he won't be in at all until next week," the waiter replied. "He sends his apologies."_

_"What kind of family emergency?" McGee asked._

_"His wife's in the hospital," the waiter said._

* * *

"Oh, Tony, you _did not_ get her that," Ziva groaned as Tony produced another first-birthday present for Shiloh from behind his back. "She is far too young, Tony."

Tony grinned, setting the squirming puppy down on the ground. "Well, it isn't every day Daddy's favourite girl turns one, is it?" he asked Shiloh, nuzzling her nose affectionately. Shiloh giggled and clapped her hand, reaching for the puppy excitedly.

"Do you have any idea how big that puppy is going to get, Tony?" Ziva reprimanded, though half-heartedly as Tony kissed her lightly. "That looks like a Dane-wolfhound mix. It will be a monster of a dog." She trailed off when he kissed her again, teasing at the edges of her lips. "Tony…"

"What?" he asked, lifting Shiloh from her arms. "C'mere, munchkin, come give Daddy some love, since Mommy's evidently not going to." He grinned again when Ziva swatted the back of his head affectionately.

* * *

"Argh!" Tony groaned as a wet nose dug itself into his ear, tiny paws digging into his neck. "Get off me, creature!" He picked up the dog by the scruff of its neck and lowered it back down to the floor.

"Told you so," Ziva said with a smirk. "Regretting your all-American puppy already, my love?" she teased as she managed to seize his hair and pull him in for a deep kiss.

"Every kid should have a dog," he retorted, swinging over her to continue their romantic quest. "This one is just annoying."

But when she woke up the next morning, 'Shiloh's' new puppy had jumped up onto the bed again and was curled up underneath his chin, sleeping.

Ziva rolled her eyes and laughed, kissing Tony's cheek lightly. Then she got up and went for her running clothes. If she had to take Shiloh and the puppy as well, she would, but she was going to get back out on the run circuit again. Being undercover, a new business owner and a young mother had destroyed her old Mossad eight-mile routine.

* * *

Four months later:

"The surveillance has increased, not diminished," Ziva said in a low voice as she shifted Shiloh to a more comfortable position and they entered through the back doors of the restaurant. "Make sure you mention that to our friend today."

They both cast momentary, uneasy glances at each other. Shiloh squealed insistently and wriggled to try and free herself from Ziva's arms. "Go! Go!"

"There, there," Ziva finally laughed, setting Shiloh down on the floor of their office. "Go play, then." Shiloh giggled, stumbled over to pick up an abandoned teddy bear and then returned, reaching up to Tony.

"C'mere, munchkin!" Tony laughed, swinging Shiloh up into the air as Ziva rolled her eyes. "All right, what do we have going today?"

"It is the health inspector's visit this afternoon. The electrician is coming at 3," Ziva reeled off, opening the datebook by her computer.

"And our friend will probably be arriving around dinner," Tony continued. "Who's the kitchen _fuhrer_ today?"

"Damian," Ziva replied.

"That boy needs a raise."

"He does."

* * *

"There's some people here to see you," Hannah said as she poked her head into the office. "They said they'd prefer to meet back here rather than out there."

Tony and Ziva both frowned. "Send them back," Tony said, passing Shiloh over to Ziva. Ziva took her wordlessly, picked up the diaper bag and slipped out the doors, disappearing behind the back hallway just as Gibbs, McGee and Fornell entered the office.

"Mission's over, Agent DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly. "Time to go home."


	4. A Breach of Trust

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the NCIS characters or storylines.

NOTE: I don't actually know the Komemuite rules, I just made them up.

* * *

**Chapter 3: A Severe Breach Of Trust**

"Mission's over, Agent DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly. "Time to go home."

"Leave everything," Fornell continued. "You'll be debriefed on the flight back to Washington."

Tony still hesitated. "But Ziva…"

"Mossad is outside. They're taking her back to Tel Aviv."

* * *

"DiNozzo, why are we going back to the house again?" Gibbs asked.

"I need to pick up the dog," Tony replied, getting out of the van. He opened the front door and picked up the kennel. Whistling, he waited for the familiar skidding sound of Goliath sliding across the hardwood. "C'mon, boy, in the box," he coaxed, and the dog dashed into the kennel, beginning to howl piteously when Tony closed the door. He quickly gathered the essential dog items and a few of Shiloh's things just in case. The diaper bag would only have one change of clothes, some diapers – day things. She would need sleepers, more clothes, more diapers, a few extra toys, Shiloh's dishes and bath things…

He stopped at the front door, looking around at the house, in slight disarray from their rush to get out the door this morning. This was more than just a house they had lived in. This was a home. This was _their_ home. They had had 3 'anniversaries' in this home. They had had their beloved Shiloh in this home…

_

* * *

_

"Tony," Ziva said on that last peaceful night, long, slim fingers combing through his hair as he laid his head in her lap. "I have some news for you."

_"What?" Tony asked with a yawn._

_"You are going to be a father again."_

* * *

Oh God. What was going to happen to Shiloh, to the new baby? Tony was here. Ziva would be in Tel Aviv. He would not allow himself to be separated from his children, not now, not ever, but neither could he justify ripping them away from Ziva…

* * *

They walked into NCIS to hear the sounds of a very frightened and upset toddler. There were desperate attempts to sooth coming from Palmer and Abby, Ducky's best calming voice carrying over those of both younger techs.

"What the hell is this racket?" Gibbs demanded as the four men strode into the bullpen.

Shiloh was throwing a world-class temper tantrum, struggling to free herself from Abby's tight arms, sobbing hysterically as she screamed, "No! No!"

"Here, give her here," Tony said quickly, pulling his daughter away from Abby. "Hey, Shi, what's all this about?" he soothed, bouncing her gently as he started to walk around the bullpen. "Come on, calm down, Daddy's here…"

"Da…" she wailed, burying her face into his shoulder.

"No, Daddy's not going anywhere," he reassured her, cuddling her trembling little body close. Sniffling, Shiloh snuggled in against his chest, laying her head down on his shoulder and her thumb began creeping into her mouth. Tony could feel her tiny muscles relaxing as her eyelids began to droop and she drifted into a light sleep.

And he could feel the Gibbs laser-eyes trained on his back. Cringing internally as he turned around, he waited for the blasting to start.

"Anything you would like to explain, Special Agent DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked dangerously.

"It's exactly what you're thinking?" Tony offered pitifully, breaking away his gaze to focus on Shiloh. "Honestly, boss, I really don't have a good excuse for our behaviour…"

"There is no excuse, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied quietly. "You broke all the rules."

All of their previous excuses seemed too flimsy to hold up. All of those flimsy excuses they had used as justification in their actions. Every last one of them lies, lies they had told themselves to alleviate the guilt of having given in. To absolve themselves from their wrongful relationship.

* * *

Ziva bit back the cry as her father viciously backhanded her face up in the conference room of NCIS. "No matter how many times you hit me, it will not change my answer," she said quietly through the stinging pain. "You will not take her."

"Ziva, you signed an agreement when you joined Komemuite," her father replied sternly. "An agreement to knowingly forego all of those normal things. You are metsada, Ziva, you are not permitted a family. The child must be surrendered to Child Services."

"No." She swallowed another cry of pain as he struck her again.

"This is not a request or a suggestion, Officer David."

"You cannot take her," Ziva repeated.

"Ziva, she is Israeli by birth."

"Shiloh is American. Born on American soil to an American father. Tony will not stand for you to take her away."

"If he values his life and that of the child, he will give her up. She cannot remain here, she is too vulnerable as she is. For security, she must be taken away, renamed, given to a civilian family. Preferably in another country."

"No."

"Officer Bashan, please escort Officer David to the car," he said coolly.

* * *

She saw Tony rocking Shiloh gently with Gibbs howling at him as she descended the stairs. To her dismay, she felt the beginnings of tears pricking at her eyes. "Michael, may I have a moment?" she asked softly, turning to look at him.

"Only a moment, Ziva," Michael replied quietly, releasing her arm to let her approach.

"Here," Tony said softly as she came to him, holding out Shiloh's sleepy weight. Ziva shook her head.

"If I touch her, I will never be able to let go, Tony," she said quietly. "Do not let my father take her."

"Of course not," Tony replied with a frown. "Ziva, sweetheart, are you bleeding?" he asked, reaching out with a kleenex to dab at the edge of her mouth. "You are. What happened?"

Ziva shook her head once more, pulling away from his gentle touch. "Promise me, Tony. Swear to me that you will not let her go."

"I swear, Ziva," he said. "What happened to you?"

"Ziva," Michael said, a light hand on her arm. "We must go. Before your father comes out."

* * *

Ziva hesitated again, and for one terrible moment, Michael was certain he would have to physically drag her from NCIS, and it would signal the end of any hope the child had of remaining in America with her father.

"Ziva," he repeated, a warning edge coming into his voice. "To the elevator immediately if you want the girl to remain with him."

"You would threaten me, Michael?" she asked coldly, gaze meeting her lover's once more before she turned away. "Perhaps you are more my father's minion than I first believed."

"Do not sulk like a child, Ziva," Michael replied sternly, firmly directing her to the elevator. "You brought this on yourself."

* * *

Shiloh started screaming unhappily when she woke up and didn't find Ziva waiting.

"Shh, munchkin, calm down," Tony soothed futilely. He had to let her down when she started kicking at him and struggling. Frantically, the little girl started searching the area as fast as her little legs would take her, looking around every corner and under every desk, pushing aside chairs and opening drawers, pleading in incomprehensible toddler-speak.

* * *

For a moment, Gibbs felt a twinge of guilt as he watched the toddler start sobbing again, clearly begging for her mother to return.

Had Kelly been the same way, when she had been that small and he had left for combat? Had Shannon been like Tony, trying to calm her down without knowing how to explain the concept of being far away?

There was no mistaking her heritage: she had Ziva's hair, Ziva's eyes, Ziva's skintone, and when you studied her face for a while, you began to see the DiNozzo structure emerge.

He couldn't believe that Tony and Ziva had been so careless. To think that a child born undercover to agents from two different countries wouldn't suffer like this when the mission ended? To think that the little girl wouldn't lose at least one parent in the end?

* * *

She was bright, that much was certain, Ducky mused as he watched the little girl dash unsteadily towards the elevators, her father temporarily distracted by his ringing cell phone.

With some difficulty, the small child managed to climb up onto an abandoned chair, banging her hand on the down signal with a cry of frustration when the light didn't flash on.

"Damian, I'm in a bit of a bind right now… you're a big boy, make the call yourself…" Tony said, running his hand through his hair as he paced around the bullpen, unaware that the directors were descending the staircase, Director David heading for the elevator with a face set in stone.

In that moment, Ducky had a decision to make. He had heard Ziva's plea. He had seen the way Tony held the child so carefully, with the utmost care. And somehow, he knew that if David got a hold of his granddaughter, neither Tony nor Ziva would ever see her again. Yet Jenny was giving him a stern look, one that said, 'Stay out of this, Doctor Mallard'…

Without a word spoken, Ducky strode rapidly to the elevator, barely heading off David, and lifted the girl away from the buttons. "Come now, little one," he said gently when she began to fight, tears welling up again, "all the fussing in the world won't bring her back, you know. Come back to your father. He'll need you now."

"Stay out of matters which do not concern you, doctor," came David's cold voice. "Give me the child."

"I'm afraid not, director, I'm afraid not," Ducky replied in an equally cool tone, turning his back to the man and rejoining his colleagues. He knelt down to release the little girl from his hold, meeting Gibbs' gaze of approval, Jenny's exasperated look caught between approval and reprimand, Palmer, Timothy and Abigail's looks of surprise and Tony's exhausted look of gratitude as he hung up.

"Gah-yah," she squealed excitedly, crouching down in front of the caged front of the dog kennel. The dog inside yapped in response, pawing at the door with a whine.

"Shiloh, no," Tony said warningly as she reached for the latch on the door.

* * *

It took every shred of self-control she possessed to keep from shaking as she slid into the town car. Inside waited two of the disciplinary officers.

She had brought this upon herself. She had broken Komemuite code of conduct. She had breached her father's trust, though she wasn't entirely certain she had ever had it. She had ignored NCIS protocol. She had discarded Gibbs' rules. She had forgotten that she was an officer on a mission, and had chosen to believe her own lies.

She knew the rules. She could not fight the disciplinary officers. She could not cry out, or her discipline would be intensified. They would stop only if her father gave the order. He would not ease up on her because she was a woman, or because she was young, or because she was his daughter.

He was so angry, Ziva wasn't sure that he would give the order at all.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, prayed for forgiveness for surely sending her unborn child to death.

The door closed behind her, and she heard her father's cold order. "Begin."

* * *

"Tony, are you sure that thing is safe?" McGee asked warily as he watched Shiloh playing gleefully with Goliath in Abby's lab. The dog was easily five times her size and almost full-grown, a monstrosity of an animal. Even Abby seemed a little wary of him.

"Oh, yeah, he's a suck," Tony said dismissively. "Goliath, _off_," he ordered sternly when Goliath went to push his weight down on Shiloh and she shrieked in terror. Immediately, the dog backed off and sat down, letting out a piteous whine as Shiloh got to her feet and retreated back into Tony's arms.

"Tony, c'mere a second!" Abby called, clicking through pages furiously on her computer. "You need to reregister her in D.C."

"Why?" Tony asked, coming over. "Why can't we just change the name on the Maine certificate?"

"Because it doesn't exist, Agent DiNozzo, every trace of your cover is gone by now," Fornell said as he entered with Gibbs.

"What's her name?" Abby asked, clicking on the appropriate box.

"Shiloh," Tony replied. "S-H-I-L-O-H. Middle name's Sarafina – S-A-R-A-F-I-N-A."

Abby looked up at Tony momentarily. "She's not married to you, Tony. She's got to have Ziva's last name."

Tony shrugged. "All right."

"No, Abby, put down DiNozzo," Jenny said rapidly as she entered the lab. "She can't be identified with Ziva in any way, shape or form. Komemuite rules clearly state that the _metsada_ essentially divorce any familial ties for civilian safety. They aren't allowed to have contact with their parents or siblings. They aren't allowed to marry or have children." She looked at the team grimly. "It's an offense punishable by death, but her father may 'conveniently forget' if she isn't identified."

* * *

"Michael, take over," she heard her father say, the voice faint as though from a great distance. "I must return to Tel Aviv. When it is finished, send her body to her American lover. I do not wish see her ever again."

"As you wish, director," Michael replied quietly, as the two disciplinary officers continued to beat Ziva. "To the embassy, Herschel," he ordered sharply, before the sound of the privacy glass being raised met Ziva's ears. "Gamiel, Yochanan, enough. I believe Officer David has learned her lesson about angering her father."

The officers backed off immediately, sitting back into their seats as Ziva gasped in pain, choosing to remain as still as possible on the floor. Closing her eyes, she tried to take inventory of her injuries. It was hard when everything hurt or bled or bruised or throbbed…

Hospital. She needed the hospital to know if the baby was all right, if by some miracle her child had survived. She needed to call Tony. She needed to hold Shiloh in her arms again. She needed Michael to tell her what would come now.

"To your quarters," Michael ordered quietly to the two disciplinary officers as the town car stopped. "Speak of this to no one." Once they had left, Ziva felt him lifting her up onto the seat. "Ziva. You must disappear. I will keep you here for a day to recover, but after that, you are on your own."


	5. Say In Theory

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

* * *

**_Chapter 4: Say In Theory…_**

"Michael," Ziva said faintly as she heard him open the door to leave.

"Yes, Ziva?"

"Why are you doing this? My father will have you killed for this…"

"Yes, he will, Ziva," Michael sighed.

"Then why?" She moved gingerly to a more comfortable position.

Michael returned to her bedside, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He rearranged the cool cloth on her forehead gently, saying quietly, "Because I love you like my own. You were Kemuel's best friend. Raphael's wife."

Ziva laughed softly, mind reliving the follies of youth and the bomb that had ended them. "Rafi and I were married less than a year, Michael."

"As far as I am concerned, you are my daughter, Ziva. You will always be my daughter," Michael murmured. "And I have known for some time that you would leave Mossad. Perhaps ever since Benyamin had me put surveillance on your apartment." He smiled slightly, drawing the back of his hand lightly across her bruised and cut cheek. "You used to look at Raphael like that."

"Michael, I'm sorry," Ziva whispered.

"You need not apologize, Ziva. He is dead. You are young, you deserve to love again." Briefly, he smiled, a sad resignation in his eyes. "Your daughter, what is her name?"

"Shiloh," Ziva replied, sitting up slightly.

"'God's gift.'" Michael quoted. "A fitting name for such a child. Take good care of her, Zivaleh."

Ziva smiled. "Thank you, Michael. For letting me go."

Michael sighed and stood, heading for the door. "Goodbye, Ziva."

"Goodbye, Michael." She paused. "Michael? Tell Kemuel and Tali I miss them. And let Rafi know… that I will always love him."

"I'm sure he already knows," Michael replied. "And I will. One thing, though: tell him how old you really are. I think he believes you are 35."

* * *

"But I don't get it, why didn't you try contacting us?" Abby asked Tony as he tried futilely to lull Shiloh to sleep, walking around Abby's lab bouncing her lightly. It was no use – Shiloh would whine and wail and kick and plead until she dropped from sheer exhaustion. She wanted Ziva tonight. "If they weren't tapping the phones…"

"We never were quite convinced that he was telling the truth," Tony replied quietly. "Security measure. Couldn't risk it, with surveillance as tight as it was. We had tracking devices on our cars. Surveillance cameras in our office and restaurant. Tails everywhere we went. I'm not entirely convinced that there weren't surveillance cameras in the house. Guards outside the house and the restaurant. The contact –"

"Siazon," Gibbs spoke up. "Marcos Siazon."

"Yeah, him, the bastard… every six months, he would stop in."

"You gave him something else to hold as leverage," Gibbs said quietly, just as the 'ding' of the elevator opening greeted their ears. Out walked McGee and the older Mossad who had escorted Ziva from NCIS mere hours ago, supporting between them a barely-conscious and badly-beaten Ziva.

"What the hell is going on?" Tony demanded as he quickly took McGee's place. "McGee, go get Ducky. Ziva. Ziva." Carefully, he laid her down on Abby's futon, setting down Shiloh in order to occupy both hands with his hurting lover. "Ziva, what hurts?"

"She is dead," the officer muttered in a low voice to Gibbs. "Do you understand me? She is dead. I have simply delivered her body to him as ordered by the deputy director."

"I always knew he was a bastard," Gibbs returned, understanding in his eyes as he nodded. "We'll handle the burial."

"I trust you will." With that, he disappeared into the elevator again just as Ducky, Palmer and McGee exited, Ducky moving surprisingly quick for a man of his age.

"Anthony, you will need to move," Ducky said, kneeling down next to Ziva.

"Ducky, I just look bad," Ziva said, voice laced with pain. "The medic at the embassy has already treated the injuries and done the examination. Really, I am fine."

"Yeah, right," Tony said derisively, brushing back a stray lock of hair from her face as Shiloh happily curled up in the curve of Ziva's arm to sleep, her head resting against her mother's shoulder. "God, Ziva, you look like you were beaten to death."

She looked at him but said nothing, biting back the whimper of pain as Ducky gently probed at her bruised and tender midsection.

* * *

Everybody spent the night at NCIS that night. McGee, Gibbs and Jenny retreated upstairs to coordinate research on tracking down Siazon. Ducky and Palmer made excuses about needing to observe Ziva overnight.

"So what did the doctor at the embassy say?" Tony asked softly, stroking her hair lightly as he held Ziva's head in his lap. "About the baby?"

"He said it was too early to tell," Ziva replied quietly. "We will not be able to know one way or the other for a few months. I am sorry, Tony…"

"Don't apologize, this isn't your fault," he said firmly, leaning down to kiss her. She returned the kiss gratefully, letting him lace his fingers through hers as she started to drift off into sleep. Tony stayed in that position for at least a few hours, not waking to risk waking her if he got up.

Finally, Tony left Ziva and Shiloh sleeping peacefully, Goliath keeping guard at Ziva's feet. Crossing over to where Abby was dozing in front of her computer, he shook her shoulder. "Abs. Wake up."

"Hmm, what?" she asked, jumping awake.

"Let's say – in theory – that a guy needs to disappear," Tony said. "What's he do?"

Abby groaned as she rubbed her eyes. "Well, I'm assuming that this guy – theoretically – has a motive for disappearing. He doesn't want it to be obvious he's planning on leaving. So he starts emptying his bank accounts, slowly and in varying amounts so that nobody's alerted by a sudden total withdrawal. He arranges a third party to handle the sale of his house, if he's got a house, or he pays a couple more months' rent on his apartment. Another third party in his destination handles the purchase of a house or rental of an apartment. He finds somebody to create fake identification. He doesn't let his family know where or when he's going. He drives to the airport or the train station or the bus station. He doesn't have a taxi to mark his departure that way. But he doesn't arrive at the station just before his boarding. He arrives much earlier, and then there's more possible destinations to throw off anybody tracking them."

"And let's say time is of the essence," Tony continued. "Always in theory, Abby, let's say he's got a wife and daughter he needs to hide as well. Does that change anything? What if the family's got people after them? Would it be more beneficial to go rural?"

"Tony, I thought this was all in theory," Abby said suspiciously, looking at him.

"Sure it is, Abby. It's a theory," Tony shrugged.

"Well," Abby said doubtfully, "it makes it harder when he's trying to hide three people and not one, especially in a short time. He'll probably _want_ to move to somewhere urban. They can blend in easily there, and he knows it. But if they're being targeted, rural would be better. Not middle-of-the-sticks rural, but a small town. He'll want to be in the town, not on the outskirts. Too rural makes them easy targets. Inside the town, they've got the security of nosy neighbours who notice when strangers show up."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Tony said with a sigh. "So how would he go about finding somebody to create fake ID?"

"Well, if this guy is no longer theoretical and he's made up his mind," Abby said with a trembling voice, "he could ask me. I can make ID to pass any inspection."

"Nah, he hasn't made his mind just yet," Tony replied. "Still weighing his options."

"But maybe we should make some, just to be on the safe side," Abby said suddenly, entering her program. She pulled in copies of Tony and Ziva's passport photos and DMV photos, brought up blank copies of birth certificates, driver's licenses, passport, social security numbers. "Because that way, he doesn't have to let me know when he needs them by."

* * *

"Tony, we cannot stay here," Ziva said quietly two agonizing weeks later. "It will not take long for Mossad to realize I am not dead."

Tony looked up from where he was reading a story to Shiloh on the floor of his apartment. "I know."

"How can you sound so calm?" Ziva asked in exasperation, sliding to the ground beside him. "This is Mossad we are talking about. They will kill us, they will kill Shiloh and they will not think twice."

"Don't worry about it, Ziva. I've got it all figured out." He hugged Shiloh back against him, laughing as she giggled excitedly and started imitating the different sounds of the animals on the page. "And what about that one, Shi? What sound does that one make?"

"You… Tony, what are you talking about?" Ziva asked. "Tony."

"Relax, Ziva," Tony replied. "We'll disappear tonight if it'll make you feel better."

"It would, but how…" she trailed off as he grinned. "You… You sneaky little man! Where are they?" she demanded, smacking his arm indignantly.

"The locked drawer in my desk. Go pick it, Houdini, if you're dying of curiosity already."

* * *

"Where's DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded the next morning. "McGee, have you seen him yet?"

"Nope, sorry, boss," McGee replied, hanging up the phone. "He's not answering his home or cell, either."

Frowning, Gibbs picked up his own extension and dialled Forensics. "Abby, come up here a second. McGee," he continued as he hung up, "just on a whim, check Tony's bank records."

Abby appeared at his desk. "Present as ordered, sir!"

"Did you do any work for Tony lately?"

"Like work-work, because I _did _do some ballistics reports for him on that case…"

"Like ID work?" Gibbs asked knowingly, as Abby seemed to think hard. "For Tony and Ziva and Shiloh?"

"Ziva's dead, I'm not doing any ID work for _her_. And I didn't do any IDs for Tony and Shiloh."

"Mm-hmm. So who did you do them for?"

"That's classified."

"I'm sure it is. Make sure it can never be recovered. McGee, bank records."

"Withdrawals over the last two weeks in varying amounts, sometimes more, sometimes less, but all of his accounts have been emptied. No record of any transfers anywhere."

"Sly little dog, that one," Gibbs muttered. "Probably bolted when he thought we'd given up watching for signs."

"Gibbs, Mossad isn't stupid," McGee pointed out quietly. "They'd figure out soon enough that Ziva isn't dead. They probably went into hiding."

"Ziva's dead, McGee. You were at her memorial. Tony… well, Tony resigned." He held up a typed letter with a hasty scribble as signature. "Thought he would. Probably moved back home to Ohio."

* * *

"So, Ziva?" Tony said gallantly, holding the front door of the apartment open for her.

Ziva smiled and shook her head. "You _are_ working on a house, yes?"

"Hey, I had two weeks. You can't close a deal on a decent house in two weeks!" Tony grinned, ducking in after her. Ziva set down Shiloh and released Goliath from his kennel. Then he wrapped a casual arm around her waist. "I like being twelve years younger," he commented casually. "I get to relive my mid-twenties _and_ my thirties, this is awesome."

Ziva laughed and pecked him on the cheek lightly. "Speak for yourself, my love."

"What, you liked being 35?" Tony asked teasingly.

Ziva smiled slightly. "I will let you know when I get there. Abby did not change my age at all."

"You mean you _actually_ are 23?" His jaw dropped as he processed the age difference. "Gawd, you're a baby."

Ziva laughed again. "Speaking of babies, yours is about to go flying off the balcony. Shiloh, come back here!" She took off after her toddler, scooping her up into her arms. Shiloh shrieked and giggled as Ziva smothered her with kisses, cuddling her close.

"I'm, like, a pedophile," Tony muttered to himself.


	6. Epilogue

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any recognizable character of NCIS.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: (sighs) And so another one comes to an end. This is actually sort of sad, because everybody's asking for more. Maybe I'll do a spin-off on this one, too… Thanks for reading and thanks for reviewing!

* * *

**_Epilogue_**

It had been ten months since Tony and Ziva had disappeared. Ten months, and every day, Gibbs had wondered if they had made it to safety. Where they'd gone. What they were doing.

He missed having movies quoted at him. He missed hearing mangled idioms. On the plus side, he'd finally finished a boat. Managed to get it out of his basement, towed it to Florida. She was going to sail her maiden voyage today. And he'd taken the team along – what was left of his 'team', any way. After Tony and Ziva, they had all realized how they depended on one another to pull through. Ducky, Jenny, Abby, McGee, even Palmer. A friend, a lover, a daughter, a son and… Palmer. Like a family. And what good was a good boat when you had nobody to sail with you?

* * *

They came into one of the beachside cafes to eat that evening, after a full day out on the water, laughing and talking.

He heard it very suddenly: the familiar sound of Tony's laugh. Nobody else seemed to have heard it, as they all kept sipping at their cocktails and talking.

Gibbs looked around carefully, trying not to alert anybody by being obvious. He spotted them sitting at the far end of the patio, Tony working on a laptop with a drink beside it, and Ziva doing a sketch of some sort on a notepad on the table. Shiloh was between them in her own chair, probably eating dinner, and in the chair next to Ziva was a baby carrier, where she had one hand lightly rocking.

Tony said something to her casually, and Ziva laughed, turning her attention briefly to the carrier once more. She replied with a smile and lifted a small infant out, resting him or her against her shoulder. Her eyes locked gazes with Gibbs momentarily, then she sent him a slight smile. Tony found him seconds later, and raised his glass almost imperceptibly.

He would go home comforted. They were fine. They were happy.

And so he would be too.


End file.
